Endearing
by CrazyCatLadyIrishlullaby
Summary: A moment in which reading, search histories, and illegal hunting bring about confessions of feelings for each other. #Ichabbie
1. Chapter 1

Title: Endearing  
Author: CrazyCatLadyIrishlullaby  
Rated: M  
Summary: In which reading, search histories, and illegal hunting bring about confessions of feelings for each other. #Ichabbie  
Notes: I have only watched the series through twice (just started watching it a third time) so please forgive any moments that don't jive canonically.

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Endearing.

That was the first word Abbie could think of when it came to Crane.

The way he would often become frustrated during a case because historians had gotten some small detail wrong. The small blush that would creep onto his skin when she teased him about whatever he was frustrated over. That _look_ he got when he realized he was just being silly. Then there was his voice.

His tone when he reminded her they had each other. She could be imagining it, or maybe just seeing too much into things but, there always seemed to be something a little deeper than friendly adoration in his voice.

More than once, as of late, she had caught him _gazing_ at her. She would say _staring_ but that didn't seem like the correct word. His gaze would roam over her face, as though taking in every little detail before reaching her eyes. At which point, he would look adequately surprised, blush, and put his attention back on whatever tome he was submerged in.

Abbie wasn't sure when she had started feeling _something_ for Crane. Just that more than once she had caught her self admiring his physical attributes and fighting a smile at the grandiloquent words and gestures he would use. One thing was for certain, she cared for him as more than just a friend.

But then _things_ would happen, wives would return from Purgatory, get kidnapped, come back, run away, turn evil, and finally die. Abbie knew better than to infringe on an already established relationship. But, now Katrina was gone.

While she was certain Crane hadn't completely gotten over the woman he had pined over for so long or if he ever would. But she was certainly anticipating the day he would give some indicator that he was ready to move forward with his romantic life. Until then, she would just do her best to put her own emotions aside.

Although, she could always do research in the meantime to find out the do's and don'ts for "courting"someone from his era.

Abbie opened her computer and accessed the search engine.

 _Colonial courtship rituals_

She clicked the first link "5 Courtship Rituals From Colonial America" and scanned the page with curiosity. Her eyebrows arched in interest on the last two. Apparently, despite the puritans and what was ordinarily viewed as a sexually uptight era, they were not too much different from her own era.

Men could share a bed with a woman, without repercussions just by promising to marry her... if he made good on the promise. If he didn't, he would be found and forced to atone for his dishonesty. A far cry from the way the world worked now. Courting couples could go so far as to share a bed for a night, as long as they promised not to do anything reserved for marriage or stayed on their respective sides of a board in the middle of the bed. They often didn't even have marriage ceremonies... just held hands and promised themselves to each other.

An article titled "Courtship, Sex, and the Single Colonist" added onto breaking down what Abbie thought about what Crane might expect from a woman. Apparently it wasn't uncommon for most women to walk down the aisle pregnant (when an actual ceremony took place).

The next few sites essentially repeated the same things as the former with the same old ideas of arranged marriages and marrying to gain political status.

A thought occurred to her.

 _Colonial man mourning death of wife._

Abbie frowned when all she got was general mourning stories and tales of local, current era people mourning the loss of their loved ones. What little information she could find about the colonial era, only gave the women as examples and gave no indication as to whether the same rules applied to the men.

A sudden rustle from Crane's direction made her glance up. A grin had spread over his lips and he was reclaiming his seat. It wasn't unusual, when he was getting into a book, for him to expel energy in the form of standing up and flourishing his arms dramatically.

 _Endearing_.

That word came to her mind again.

He raised his eyes to meet hers. His fingers curled around the backside of the book as he closed it. "Lieutenant," he said gently, barely able to contain the delight in his voice. "Where might I find the final instalment of the misadventures of young Potter and his friends?"

Abbie stood, taking a moment to roll her shoulders and stretch out her back before going to the bag that contained the latest procurements from the library. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows was not amongst the loot.

Oh right...

"They were all out of it," Abbie said regretfully. " _But_ , I think I might have it on my computer."

Crane inhaled deeply, his lips pressing into a disapproving line at the thought of reading a book on an electronic device. Abbie could practically visualize the tirade that would undoubtedly unfold momentarily.

"Although your generation has found means of reducing the entirety of literature to fit onto your electronic devices, there still remains precious few individuals that see reading as an _experience_ to be had. There is something to be said to allow yourself get submerged in the smell of a book being opened for the first time, or the scent of a tome that had long been forgotten only to be rediscovered," Crane ranted. Abbie leaned back against the desk and hid a growing smirk by lightly biting her index finger. "The pages of a book are meant to be caressed and cherished as one would do to a lover... Not casually pushed along with a _scroll bar_."

He puffed out his chest indignantly as his moment of feeling superior was finished.

Abbie brought her hands down to the desk. "Do you want to read it or not, Crane?"

"Indeed I would, Lieutenant," Crane said tersely, but eagerly vacated his seat to scurry to her computer.

Abbie pushed away from the desk. "It'll be in the downloads or documents folder. If it's not there you can check my kindle account," she said. "I'm going to get coffee. You want anything?"

Crane smiled with delight, his eyes twinkling with joy at being able to continue his reading. "I would be quite grateful for a toffee mocha frappuccino, if you could be so kind," he replied.

She gave him a mock salute and ducked out of the cabin and hurried to her suv.

It wasn't often days like this happened. But they were going to be taking as much advantage of the quiet time as possible, while not letting their guard completely down. Last time they had let their guard down, Henry had just been in hiding for six weeks.

So far it had been almost eight weeks without any odd murders or anything beyond basic police duties. And to be honest, she was getting kind of bored with just sitting around at work so most of her days consisted of perusing the shops of Sleepy Hollow for herself or taking Crane places. Occasionally she would get a call if she was needed for disputes, but even those were few and far between.

Today she didn't dawdle... She was just in need of seeing civilization and getting some coffee. She had seen civilization and she had gotten coffee. Now it was back to the cabin.

When she entered the cabin, it was unnaturally quiet and Crane was nowhere in sight.

"Crane? I have coffee," she called, setting his drink next to the computer. He had his book open on the desktop. He had already made it half way through chapter four. Not bad considering it wasn't that long of a drive to town and back. Apparently it had been on her kindle account. Good on him finding it on his own.

He was almost completely independent in the modern world. If things continued as they were, before long, they could even go their separate ways. Abbie felt her heart fall at the thought of never seeing Crane again.

No, no, even if their time as Witnesses was done, they would stay together.

A chill went up her spine as Crane's hand grazed the gap between her jeans and shirt.

"Pardon, Lieutenant," he murmured as he wedged past her to squeeze back into his seat. His blue eyes flashed up to her face, accompanied with a brief, shy smile, before he looked away again. He retrieved his drink and eagerly began to consume it.

"I'm going to cook up something to eat for lunch," Abbie said, as she made her way to the kitchen. She opened the refrigerator and saw a gallon size ziplock bag full of red, bloody meat. "Crane," she groused. "It's not hunting season. _Why_ is there fresh venison in the fridge?"

"I have versed myself in the laws. That _deer_ was a nuisance because it insisted upon eating the perennials we laboured so hard upon last weekend. So the only natural recourse was to deal with said nuisance. And a hunter simply does not waste such a fine specimen of fresh meat when it is available," Crane retorted. He huffed with indignation. "Should you look into the cookie jar, you will find fresh venison jerky which I have prepared."

When did he have time to dress a deer _and_ make jerky? She had come to visit numerous times in the past few days and she hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary.

"When did you kill this deer?" Abbie asked.

"Yesterday, shortly after you returned home. But not to worry," Crane said. "I made use of Mister Corbin's _shed_ for the dressing, butchering, and roasting of the meat in question. It cleaned up rather nicely."

Abbie smirked and shook her head. She grabbed the ziplock an set to washing off and cutting the meat into strips. "I know you're still getting used to things being different, but you can't just go killing any animal that wanders into the flowers, Crane. If you want I can get you a calendar of the hunting seasons and you can study to get a hunting permit."

Crane grumbled disapprovingly. All she could make out was _ludicrous_ and _not what we fought the war for_. She shook her head and chuckled.

"Lieutenant," Crane said after a moment of silence. "Might I make an inquiry?"

"Go for it," Abbie said, putting a pan on the stove and turned it on. She threw a few spices on the meat and then tossed it into the pan once it was warm.

"For what reason did you _google_ mourning and courting traditions from my time period," Crane asked. Abbie felt the blood drain from her face and pool in her feet. Crane stood and came to stand beside her, his hands behind his back. "If you were curious, you need only to _ask_. I thought I had proven time and again that I am more then willing to provide you with such information."

Abbie let out a breath of relief. "I was... just wondering when it would be appropriate to start trying to find you a girlfriend and what I should expect to go on."

Crane smiled affectionately. "Mourning was a tricky ordeal. Whilst women were expected to mourn for a period of two years, she could remarry if she wished or needed to. The same was for men. And rest assured, should any young woman catch my eye, I would bring her to you first and foremost to obtain your approval of the union."

Abbie removed the venison from the pan and moved to the fridge to get out salad mix and dressing. "Maybe I just wanted to find out on my own," she said with a shrug. Crane provided two plates and Abbie split the salad between them, then did the same with the venison. They retreated to the table and tucked into their food. She looked at him across the table. "Just make sure the board stays between you," she teased.

A faint blush kissed Crane's cheeks. "That may have been a custom in the Americas, but rest assured it was _not_ a custom I partook in," Crane replied. He glanced up at her then quickly back down again. "Although, we spent a considerable amount of time trying to rescue my departed wife from Purgatory... While I was incredibly relieved that we eventually retained her freedom, our relations were _turbulent_ at best because by that time, my heart had set itself on another. And then of course, there was her betrayal. For all intent and purposes, my mourning period for my departed wife is complete."

"Caroline," Abbie said.

"I'm afraid, even when Caroline was attempting to capture my attention, my heart already belonged to another," Crane replied, giving her a shy smile.

"Oh," Abbie said, surprised that her partner had actually been able to find such an attachment before Caroline had come into the picture. The only women he had really had contact with prior to getting involved with the re-enactors was herself and... "Jenny?"

Ouch, it hurt to even say that one out loud.

However, if his heart belonged to her sister, Abbie would gladly let her sister have that bit of happiness. If any two people deserved happiness it was Crane and Jenny.

Crane set down his fork, finished the bite of food he was chewing, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and rested his hands upon the table. "Lieutenant," he said gently. "I consider you a woman of incredible intelligence. Your help to me since awakening has been invaluable. You have introduced me to concepts which could confound some of the greatest minds of my time, I warrant. We have an impeccable bond which may at first have been for a higher purpose, but I feel has purposes both great and small."

Abbie lowered her own fork. Her heart was beating rapidly from a sudden burst of adrenaline. "What... What are you trying to say, Crane?" she asked, barely able to keep a waver out of her voice.

"I do hope you are purposely being obtuse, Lieutenant," Crane drawled, the shyness suddenly shifting to a look full of confidence and sexuality. "I think of you as an intelligent woman, but I should hope you are clever enough to realize that it is you which has captured the strings of my heart and have thusly plucked at them like an enchanted harpist."

She had something similar happen many times in her head.. Crane professing his attraction to her. Somehow, it had never been as eloquent in her own head. She had imagined the look on his face, but it had never greeted her with such intensity in her daydreams.

"Excuse me, please," she murmured and practically catapulted herself out the front door. The fresh air invaded her lungs and magically seemed to clear her head.

It was just her luck that she would panic when presented with the one person she actually wanted confessed to wanting her in return. Sure she had thought about it and even fantasized about it at times. But when he had confessed, all she could think about was how things had been in his home era. _How_ , exactly could they make a relationship, a _real_ relationship work?

Would he expect her to submit to him and be a perfect subservient wife providing him with children?

 _No_. No. Crane had already proven that he would not require that kind of thing from her. She couldn't even bring herself to think it now that she remembered the way Crane and her always interacted. He may be old-fashioned but he was a modern thinking man for his time. And on more than one occasion he had corrected himself when assuming, as a woman, she only wished to marry and have children.

So she was worrying over nothing. Nothing. Her and Crane were good together. They worked well as partners in the field, why wouldn't that make equally good partners in other aspects?

"I apologize, Lieutenant," Crane said behind her. "I spoke hastily of my affections towards you. It is clear I misunderstood your queries into the customs of my times. Although I had hoped..."

Abbie turned and planted her mouth against his, effectively silencing his attempt at gracefully backing out of his confession. His hands came up to cradle her face as his lips parted to draw the lower of hers between his teeth. His tongue gently stroked her skin, coaxing her into fully exploring his mouth.

When she clinched the front of his coat, his hands drifted down her body, his nimble fingers somehow finding any flesh that was exposed between her face and waist. He looped a finger through a belt loop on either side of her jeans and pulled her flush against him.

Abbie wasn't sure how Crane managed it but he both exceeded and defied her expectations when it came to kissing. She had expected something chaste but capable of inciting desire. It had started that way, but now he was like a ravenous animal, intent on claiming her as his mate.

She was all for him doing precisely that but then he carefully broke off the kiss and stepped back. Crane drew in deep breaths, his cheeks were flushed as he fought to calm himself. "Lieu-" He stammered. " _Abigail_. I _must_ know... your feelings for me..."

Abbie put a finger over his lips. She liked the way her name sounded, the way his voice just seemed to caress it. How could she put it into words, the way she felt about him? She remembered he had compared her to a harpist using the strings of his heart as her instrument. Her brain tried to find a way to work that in, but each one got kicked out for sounding too corny. Then again, Crane might actually like it.

She put a hand on his chest. "Crane." She cringed. "Ichabod. I feel the same way. I'm just... _not ready_ to say the words just yet."

Crane took the hand on his chest and bowed over it. "Rest assured, Miss Mills. I am humbled by your affections and will be respectful of your boundaries. Any resulting relationship from today's confessions of _feelings_ will progress at a speed in which you are completely comfortable."

"Well, I certainly hope we've established that a relationship has resulted," Abbie said with a grin.

Shy Crane reappeared. "I did not wish to be presumptuous. But, it has certainly been established Miss... _Abigail_. I must also remind myself that, as a modern woman, you expect your romantic partner to refer to you by name. It may take a few days to get into the habit, but rest assured, I shall do so."

"But it's still Lieutenant at work, Crane," Abbie said with a teasing smirk, smoothing down the collar of his coat.

Crane clasped his hands behind his back. " _Abigail_ ," he said carefully. "Would it be untoward of me to request an outing with you tomorrow?"

"No it would not," Abbie grinned. "What time should I pick you up?"

An enigmatic smile spread across Crane's lips. "I do believe it is customary for I to be the one to, as you say, pick _you_ up. I shall do so in the morning at approximately 9 o'clock A.M. Dress comfortably."

"All right. I will be ready," Abbie said. "I can't wait to see what you have up your sleeves."

She stepped forward and chastely pressed her lips to his then ducked back inside to finish her salad.


	2. Chapter 2

"So... you're dating now?" Jenny asked, unable to hide her grin.

"Shut up," Abbie replied, pulling a pair of earrings from her jewellery box. "You can't act like you didn't see it coming. Not when you've been mapping my life out with him since you've gotten out of Tarrytown."

Jenny shrugged indifferently and flopped down on Abbie's bed inelegantly. "Because, unlike you, me and everyone else aren't blind. I think everyone in town already thinks it. You have to tell me how it happened, there's at least fifteen people that had bets going on how you two would hook up."

Abbie sighed heavily. "It wasn't anything big or fancy. I accidentally left my browser open and he saw some stuff I had been searching for, misunderstood my reasons for looking it up, and confessed to his feelings." Jenny groaned and swore. "Seriously, Jenny? You lost the bet?"

"I had twenty on you two getting drunk at the bar and just having a night of passion and reckless abandonment. Then the next morning you both wake up wondering how the hell you ended up in the archives room naked," Jenny replied, grinning widely.

Abbie rubbed her temples trying to keep her head from imploding. "I never should have told you about that dream."

"Mine wasn't the worst one," Jenny said. "Before Irving left he put in a bet that Katrina would come back and put some kind of spell on you guys and the only way to stop it was to have sex."

"Don't even joke about that," Abbie said flatly. She wasn't even sure which part left her disamused the most, Katrina returning or the sex spell. "Were there any that didn't involve sex being the catalyst?"

Jenny thought a long moment then shook her head. "Nope."

"Then obviously none of y'all really know Crane," Abbie said sternly.

Jenny held her hands up in surrender. "Come on Abs, lighten up. Just let me live vicariously through you for a moment. There's no need to get defensive. So, _have_ you two... you know?"

Abbie glared at her sister from the corner of her eyes. She sighed heavily and put down the earrings. "Fine. If you want to live vicariously through me, help. He said comfortably. What do I have that could be considered comfortable?"

"On a Saturday morning?" Jenny asked. She pursed her lips. "Maybe he's just wanting to take you to the re-enacting field. Although, if that were the case he would have asked you to-" Jenny put on a faux British accent "-don clothing which would fit in with the colonial era without arousing suspicions from the locals."

Abbie drew in a deep breath to roll her options over in her head. "He said to dress comfortably... he knows what I am comfortable in. Come on Abigail... think. What did he mean?" It came to her like a ton of bricks being dropped in front of her. " _Jeans_ , boots..." She grabbed the items out of her closet along with a white tank top. She also yanked out a couple of see-through, button-up blouses. "Orange or yellow?"

Jenny appraised the choices. "Yellow looks better on you," she provided. "You sure you want to wear that?"

"Yes," Abbie said, hanging the orange shirt back up. "This is what I am comfortable in. What's wrong with it?"

"It's almost the same thing you wear to work _every day_."

"And why is that?" Abbie asked. "Because it's comfortable. What time is it?"

Jenny craned her neck to look at the clock. "You have ten minutes."

Abbie swore under her breath and quickly pulled on her clothes, leaving the yellow shirt unbuttoned and tied the ends in a neat knot at the bottom. She pulled her hair back in a ponytail.

 _Comfortable_.

She looked in the mirror. Light make up and clothes she could move and breathe in. This was comfort for her. If Crane didn't like it or it was too casual she wasn't sure what her reaction would be. But she didn't foresee that happening. Crane knew what he was getting into and always chose his words carefully.

When he said comfortable, something like this was what he had in mind.

She was outside waiting five minute early, Jenny hovering close by to see her off. Because that's what sisters did... they tried their best to make their sisters as uncomfortable as possible in lieu of parents being available. And since there was nothing terrible going on, Jenny had the luxury of acting like a proper older sister.

They had grown even closer together in the weeks of quiet that were taking place.

Abbie looked at her watch. _Three minutes_. Maybe she should have insisted on picking him up. He could have gotten lost, a taxi could be taking him on a wild goose chase to boost the fare, or... He could have procured a motorcycle and was currently pulling up to the curb.

She wouldn't have believed it if she hadn't seen it with her own eyes. It took him removing his helmet and getting off of the bike for her to actually believe it _was_ him. He was wearing the skinny jeans and black shirt she had bought for him, once upon a time. He had trimmed up his beard and his hair was pulled back in its customary ponytail. All of this was topped off with a long coat that wasn't his normal uniform but a similar cut and fit.

" _Where_ did you get that and since when can you drive one?" Abbie said.

Crane looked pleased with himself. "Before he and his family departed for New York City, Captain Irving made me aware of places that were willing to make fair trade for one in proper working condition," he said. "One of the gentlemen from the re-enactments teaches motorcycling for a living. I was able to make adequate payment for the motorcycle and my instructor owed me a favour."

"When were you planning to tell me you had your own ride?" Abbie asked.

He tucked one arm behind his back and bowed elegantly. When he came out of the bow, he took her hand. "I was awaiting a opportune moment in which to share the news. And in the middle of our luncheon yesterday it occurred to me that this moment would be the most befitting."

"Well its certainly a surprise."

His eyes slowly roamed over her, he smiled with approval. "Your dress is most appropriate and befitting our outing today. And the colour is... most complimentary to your beauty." He glanced in Jenny's direction. "Good morrow, Miss Jenny. I take it you have no objections to your sister and myself embarking on the journey of courtship?"

"Have her home before midnight," Jenny called from the doorway

"Will certainly attempted to do so, Miss Mills," Crane said. He met Abbie's eyes. "If you would be so kind, Miss Abigail." He swept a hand towards the motorcycle. "Our carriage awaits, as it were."

Like a true gentleman, Crane escorted her to the motorcycle and offered her a helmet before donning his own. Once he was on, Abbie threw her leg over the seat and eased in between him an a leather duffel strapped down on the back edge of the seat. It had been a while since she had been a passenger on one of these things and that time hadn't exactly been comfortable. But, somehow, he just seemed to fit perfectly between her legs-a thought that made a tiny smirk appear on her lips as she wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head against his back.

He started the motorcycle, it's engine roared to life, undoubtedly waking a few people on the street that wanted to sleep in on the weekends. Crane lightly put his hand over where hers clasped against his belly. His thumb gently stroked the back of her hand for a moment before it returned to the handles and he guided the machine down the street. She wasn't sure how long they had been riding, just that eventually they exited the city limits and entered into the outer fringes, flat pastures dotted with fat cows spread as far as the eye could see.

Crane took a worn road that twisted back towards town and up hill. Abbie had no idea where he was going and that in and of itself was amazing considering she knew Sleepy Hollow like the back of her hand. It wasn't long before Crane pulled the motorcycle to a stop and removed his helmet. "We have arrived, Lieu- Miss Abigail. Although this is little more than the end to one part of our journey. There is still a small amount of hiking to get to our final destination."

"You really like taking a girl off the beaten path, don't you?" Abbie asked as she removed her own helmet. She slid off of the bike and took a moment to smooth her clothes.

Crane turned off the bike and tucked the key into his pocket, frowning as his hand struggled to fit in enough to make sure the key would not escape. When Abbie cocked an eyebrow, he smiled bashfully. "I felt it was nigh time for us to have some kind of adventure. Albeit far from our normal excursions which involved hunting the wicked and disposing of them, exploring a new locale is an adventure in and of itself."

"You mean to tell me you have no idea where we're going?" Abbie asked speculatively.

Crane inhaled deeply and jutted his nose into the air with indignation. "I know precisely where our destination lies. The adventure, Abigail, is in getting there." He grinned and tapped the side of his nose then swept his hand towards the seemingly endless stretch of trees. "As long as I can fathom the location of the sun, we shall find the destination with ease."

Abbie stepped towards the treeline. Crane retrieved the leather duffel off the back of the seat before joining her. He clasped her hand and together they descended into the forest. The early morning sunlight filtered through the limbs, casting bursts of light on Crane's face as they walked. Words were few and far between as they walked. Both of them took in their surroundings with each step and looking to make sure the other was right there with them, despite the fact their hands were still joined, his fingers threaded between hers.

They reached a small clearing, Crane stopped and looked around curiously. He darted off towards the left and knelt down at a patch of berries. He plucked one juicy berry from the patch. "These shall go nicely with the refreshments I have brought along already."

Abbie knelt down next to him and helped him pick a suitable amount for their adventure. Once done, Crane sprang to his feet and offered a hand to help her up. When she got to her feet, she weaved slightly and fell against him and nuzzled her face against his shirt. His arms wrapped around her and he rested his chin on top of her head.

"We mustn't linger too long," he murmured, then pulled away. He recaptured her hand and pointed in the direction he would be going before continuing onward. Small woodland creatures scampered for shelter as they trudged through.

Finally the trees thinned out and opened onto a broad span of open space. The treeless span dropped down and gave an unobstructed view of Sleepy Hollow and a cleared plot of land dotted with people, tents, and smoking campfires.

The re-enactors. That answered the questions she had about how he had discovered the place.

Crane released her hand and placed the duffel on the ground to remove his coat. He spread it out on the ground and offered his hand to Abbie. Abbie took his hand and he guided her to sitting on his coat. He retrieved the duffel and carefully sat down next to her.

"The view is as breathtaking as I thought it would be," Crane said gently, casting a sly glance in her direction. He unzipped the duffel and removed two metal drink canisters from inside. "You will be delighted to know that none of the coffee has spilled and it still retains a delightful temperature. Or, rather, I at least am impressed. Items such as these would have been quite useful in my day."

Abbie took one container from him. "Never underestimate a good Thermos that keeps your hot coffee hot and inside," Abbie said, removing the lid to inhale the coffee. "I'm surprised Starbucks let you bring your own mugs."

He pulled out a box baring the siren. "I have managed to integrate myself seamlessly into your society, to the point I am considered a beloved peer to many shop keepers of Sleepy Hollow." He opened the box to reveal two danishes. "I feel I owe it all to you. If it hadn't been for your patience and relentless determination, I fear I may have been locked away in Tarrytown and the world would have fallen into chaos because we were not together."

Abbie plucked out a danish. "Well, you've been a good student," she said and took a bite of her pastry. "And oddly enough... since you've shown up, I feel like everything in my life has been falling together like it's supposed to."

"And now we are taking the most thrilling and mysterious adventure of all as a _couple_ ," Crane said. he raised his thermos. "May our romantic involvement only strengthen the bond we have already begun to forge."

Abbie touched her container to his. "To strengthening bonds," she grinned.

They took long drinks of their coffee and ate their pastries in companionable silence. Down below the re-enactors started filling their ranks and preparing for battle. Before long the air was filled with spent gunpowder, smoke, and battle cries.

"I helped them to be able to recreate several battles that took place in this area," Crane said. "And assisted them on becoming more _accurate_ in their portrayals."

Abbie leaned her head onto Crane's shoulder. She understood what he was doing. He was trying to share with her, something which he enjoyed while also doing something he thought she would enjoy. When she was coming up, she had always hoped she would find someone so intuitive about her. She remembered, while she had been dating Morales, an old familiar dream had come to her that she felt directed her to her soulmate.

That had been why things hadn't lasted long with him or anyone in fact. The face of her "mystery man" had remained a mystery. However, not long after meeting Crane, she had the same dream, only the mystery face was crystal clear and Crane. Even the voice had matched the man in her dreams... telling her what he felt for her just before they descended into more interesting things that did not require clothing.

That dream had been the most common denominator in the end of relationships. She had it again last night, Crane's face was as clear as ever. She had practically been able to taste him on her lips when she woke up to her alarm clock to prepare for her date.

She was used to dates that consisted of going to a bar and just having a few beers. _This_ was something completely personal and intimate. Just like Crane himself, it was a very pleasant deviation from the norm.

He rambled on about the battle taking place, what role he had played in said battle, jokes that had been shared between him and his comrades. Abbie listened attentively, feeling as though she was learning some of the most intimate details of his life. Although, being a soldier, his role in battles probably were the most intimate parts of him. The best part was, he was doing his normal thing of explaining topics using his hands, while her resting her head on one arm limited the movement of one, the other moved with its full ability.

Occasionally he would glance down at her face to make sure she was still listening, his eyes searching her face for any indicators of boredom. That's when she would ask a question to get more details or give a simple acknowledgement that she had soaked up the information, which would make him beam and continue on with his tale.

Once he had finished his sharing, they ended up stretching out next to each other, Abbie laid on her back, resting her head on a bundled up blanket Crane had packed in the duffel to prevent the coffees from spilling. Crane lay on his side, propping up on his elbow to look down at her. "What are some memories that are dear to you?" he asked.

"I don't really have that many," Abbie admitted. She thought a long moment. "I was actually hoping, if everything had quieted down as far as the Apocalypse goes, that I could start trying to make good memories with Jenny that didn't involve breaking into places and stealing stuff. Give her a chance at having a normal life." She looked straight at him. "Maybe you could be one of the sources of my new memories."

"I would be both honoured and delighted to do so, Miss Abigail," Crane said, trailing his knuckles down her cheek. His eyes shifted to her mouth. His tongue darted out to moisten his lips, as if contemplating using them for something that might require them to be soft and supple. "I find myself entranced by your eyes and mouth." His thumb stroked the apple of her cheek. "Your eyes... albeit you have had so many misfortunes befall you, they retain a softness and willingness to care deeply for those you surround yourself with. They truly are windows into a soul so full of love but that wants to protect itself from the pain that you undoubtedly feel will come your way by getting too close."

His thumb moved to her mouth, where he gently caressed her bottom lip. "Your mouth... Spouts orders that I fear could render the generals of my day to blushing school boys eager to obey your every command. I have yet to hear a word that is not grounded in wisdom come from these lips. If given adequate time I could probably write sonnets on the beauty and fierceness with which you speak. Both have proven to captivate my soul and exacerbate my admiration for you. Not to mention your mouth has been a most pleasant source of distraction for quite some time and they've only become more so since the kisses we shared just yesterday."

If anything, she could definitely accuse Crane of being one of the smoothest talkers in Sleepy Hollow. She didn't know of anyone in town, that liked people of the male persuasion, that wouldn't need a change of underwear after hearing what he just said. Although, his words weren't just a simple attempt at flattery. She could tell he meant every word and that he meant them with utmost respect.

When he leaned in to kiss her, she didn't dare do or say anything that might cause him to retreat. Instead she slipped a hand behind his neck and pulled him the rest of the way down. Crane's hand rested on her belly before sliding to her waist. At first his fingers brushed the tiny bit of exposed skin between her under shirt and her jeans, but he apparently thought better of it and slid his hand to her denim encased hip.

Abbie moved a hand to the one he hand on her hip and guided back to the exposed skin at her waistline. Crane made a beautiful sound at the back of his throat as his fingers stroked the skin. Before it registered in the depths of her brain that was able to concentrate on more than just the smell and taste of Crane invading her other sense, his nimble fingers had made their way completely into her shirt and was cupping the curve of her ribs.

If this went on much longer, she was sure his hand would drift even higher, even if it was a subconscious motion.

Much to her surprise, instead of moving upward, his fingers splayed out and his hand moved down to her backside, pulling her toward him. Abbie seized the moment the lean closer against him and got him onto his back. She easily shifted on top of him, a knee on either side of his hips, giving both of his hands no option other than to rest on the curve of her rear.

Kissing Crane was officially her new favourite past-time. It was better than baseball and all the hot bubble baths she could take in a life time. Especially with all the little noises he made. When his lips parted wide enough to inhale deeply, Abbie sat up, straddling his thighs. She grinned down at at him wickedly.

"What else did you have in mind for our outing?" she asked. Again, she was surprised at how well he fit between her legs.

Crane's eyes drifted up and down her body as he propped up on his elbows. His face was flushed, his lips full and moist from their kissing, his eyes full of intensity that made certain parts of Abbie's anatomy beg for attention. He panted to recapture his breath for a moment before replying. "I... I had every intention to have this portion of our _outing_ to last only an hour and a half at the most, which then we would proceed to town and enjoy a leisurely stroll through the park or along the down town area, whichever was more to your liking. Then enjoying a delightfully light luncheon at the River _Grill_." His eyes closed and he gave the slight grimace he favoured when a modern word did not necessarily sit well with him.

"And now?" Abbie asked. cocking an eyebrow.

He sat up completely. His arms snaked around her waist, pulling her chest flush to his. "My only desire to to continue kissing you until we are both breathless."

"No arguments from me," Abbie murmured and locked lips with him again.

This time Crane was not passive and he certainly was not hesitant. The hungry animal version of Crane seemed to have resurfaced and was hell-bent on devouring _her_. One of his hands slid under the back of her shirt and spread out over her spine while the other gently squeezed the curve of her backside. He had gone from casual exploration to divide and conquer.

It was a very unexpected but pleasant surprise.

Abbie found the buttons of his shirt and carefully plucked a button free. Then another... and another. When she slid her hand into his shirt and came into contact with another layer of cotton, she gave a frustrated sound. Crane pulled back, his eyes wide as he panted for breath.

"Is something amiss?" he asked, his voice a low, sensual rumble.

"You're wearing an under shirt," Abbie grumbled, untying the knot at the front of her own over shirt. Crane watched as she removed her over shirt, letting it fall into a puddle of yellow next to them.

He brought a hand up to her shoulder and traced his fingers down the length of her arm. "As are you," he pointed out with a hint of humour in his voice.

Abbie arched her eyebrows and grinned. "Are you saying you would rather see me without it, Captain Crane?"

Crane opened his mouth and an undignified noise came out instead of words. He clamped his mouth closed, a red hue touching his cheeks again. "I..." He fidgeted uncomfortably. "What I meant was..." His voice trailed off when she started giggling. He huffed and laughter danced in his eyes. "These accursed _skinny jeans_ are obviously causing issues with blood flow to allow me to communicate in an articulate manner."

Abbie rested her forehead against his and placed a hand on the small amount of skin above his under shirt. "Are you sure it's the skinny jeans causing blood flow issues?"

Crane's voice returned to the low, husky tone. It was a tone she felt would solely be used to drive her mad with desire as he spoke of _intimate_ details. "Lieutenant, are _you_ insinuating that the source of my discomfort is that I have become _aroused_ by what has been transpiring between us?"

"I'm not insinuating, Captain, I'm flat out saying it," Abbie teased, feeling her face warm.

"You _are_ a clever woman, indeed, Lieutenant," Crane murmured, brushing his lips against hers.

It was official. Never again would she be able to hear him call her "Lieutenant" without feeling at least moderately turned on.

Suddenly a mix of screaming, gunshots, and canon fire caused both of them to startle. When they had last looked, the group below had started a break. Not to mention screaming was not normally something that happened at the re-enactments-yelling and shouting of orders, yes, screaming no.

They both followed the flow of people exiting the battlefield. An old familiar white horse cried out as it reared up. Upon it's back was an all familiar headless figure wielding an axe.

 _Of course it was the Headless Horseman_ , Abbie thought bitterly. They had been wondering where the hell he had gotten off to.

Crane held her protectively. "I would like to apologize, Miss Abigail, for it seems we must find a more suitable time to reconvene our impassioned conversation. It seems we have duties to see to."


	3. Chapter 3

Abbie tucked her lipstick back into her clutch and snapped it shut. Normally she would do things like this at home with Jenny making fun of her the entire time. However, right after her shift, she had to attend the yearly Christmas party for the precinct. So, she had gotten ready in the locker rooms.

This also had the added bonus that she didn't have to go to far to get Crane as he currently had permission to stay in the Archives since Corbin's cabin had been burned to the ground two weeks past when they struck a nerve with a local coven of witches. And tonight was not a night to ride on the motorcycle.

Not in _this_ dress, Abbie mused to herself as she smoothed it down.

She had bought the cocktail dress with the express intention of wearing it to the Christmas party. It was a little black sheath dress with cap sleeves and covered in sparkling black sequins. Fringe-like feathers gave the skirt a little bit of flare that would add some fun while dancing if the mood so fit.

She pulled on some thin bracelets then topped it all off with a gold necklace baring a blood red stone that had a deep crack going down the middle. Crane had collected the stone during one of their outings. The deep crack in it was, sadly, from where she had to shoot him to break a spell that had been connected to it. Thankfully she was a damn good shot and had hit the stone, breaking it and the spell.

One of his friends happened to be the best jeweller in town, owed him a favour, and turned the stone into a pendant.

Dating Crane had been interesting so far. Between strolls through the woods, demon hunting, dancing lessons (his idea), finding revolutionary artefacts, cooking classes (her idea), more demon hunting, fighting psychotic witches (one of which was Katrina-and that alone had boggled and perplexed them considering she was dead and all), and roller blading (Abbie's idea) it was easily the best relationship she had ever been in. She had even joined him a couple of times on the re-enactments.

Although, most of their dates consisted of finding somewhere _discrete_ that they could make out like a couple of teenagers at times. The fact they had twice been caught making out in the Archives by Reyes in the middle of the afternoon was irrelevant. Although the talk Reyes had given them afterwards made them feel like children getting caught doing something naughty by a disapproving mother.

The party in question was just down the street from the station. Abbie looked at her cell phone to check the time. Twenty minutes until the party officially kicked off. She reasoned she could go check on Crane, to make sure he wasn't being kidnapped by a vampire or something... again.

Any time she went into the Archives was a test of her willpower. More so since her and Crane had, as he so eloquently put it, _became Sleepy Hollows own version of Brad and Angelina_. It was even more of a test when it was just the two of them, late at night.

A major contributor to the Archives being a test in her willpower was that, since they were dating, Crane had taken to having very little personal space between them. His favourite thing to do was to step up behind her, place a hand on her hip, and lower his voice to that maddening, sexy tone as he said "Lieutenant."

It hadn't taken him very long to find what it was capable of doing to her and learned to exploit it as much as possible.

Another major contributor was _the dream_.

 _The dream_ had started when she was still in high school, just after she had sex for the first time. While all her friends had been fantasizing about figured in boy bands and other similar things, she assumed her were a mix of her favourite science fiction shows and romance novels. Her dream had created the perfect man in her head-a handsome, time-travelling British man who was intelligent and well-mannered, dressed in a wardrobe from a bygone era.

Or rather dreams. There was more than one that the man appeared in. Though she couldn't understand what he was saying, the tone of his voice had always been kind and reverent, hands were gentle and loving. For years her partner's face had been nothing more than a blur.

The dream would only ever come when she started dating a guy or if she met a guy she might want to date. Her dream lover would kiss her and she would be vaguely aware of the pressure of his lips on hers, but never saw them. She had gotten into the habit of, if she got a boyfriend and had the dream, if her beau didn't match up with her dream man, she would move on.

It wasn't until the first time she entered the Archives, shortly after joining the force, that she was taken aback and forced to wonder if there was some truth to her dream. Between the three large windows and through dust covered bookshelves, she recognized the setting of her dream. Although now she wondered if it was one of the aspects of her being a witness and having a prophesy all her own to keep and hold dear to herself.

And then she met Crane.

She remembered having the dream again shortly after meeting him even though, at the time, she hadn't felt attracted to him in that way. In a way, it had been the dream that instigated her initial attraction.

In the dream, she had been walking into the Archives. Her mystery man had been standing, haunched over a large opened tome, with his back to her with candles lit all around. He raised his head as she walked in then turned to face her. Instead of the distorted blur she had come to expect, she met soul piercing blue eyes and found herself looking at one Ichabod Crane.

The first time she had that dream after meeting him, the shock of seeing an actual face had snapped her awake, gasping for breath. After the initial dream of Crane, the more she fought what she felt for him, the more often she would have said dream. First it was every couple of weeks, then every week, two or three times a week, then it was every day. And God forbid she wake up in the middle of the night because more than once she had the dream twice in one evening.

Thankfully her imagination seemed to have toned things down since they started actually dating.

Abbie took one last look in the mirror then walked out of the locker room and headed for the Archives. One of the officers that was on duty let out a wolfish whistle. Abbie froze and glared at him. Although the department was relatively tight knit, she still wasn't particular to whistles and cat calls from her peers.

"We've been through this Jones," she scolded. "Stuff like that is why you're still single and no woman wants anything to do with you."

Jones held his hands up in surrender. "Sorry Mills, just isn't often we get to see you dressed like a woman. Crane's going to have his hands full tonight."

Abbie leaned closer to Jones, if looks could kill, he would be one of Moloch's undead minions, that had already been sent back to Hell. "I'm just saying... a little bit of respect goes a long way." She stood straight and tucked her clutch under her arm. "Besides, three inch heels or not, I can still kick your ass. So watch your mouth."

With that she continued on her way, leaving Jones to being laughed at by the other officer that was on duty. When she ducked into the Archives, she closed the door firmly behind her.

"We're going to be la-" She paused when she turned to face Crane. Warmth flooded her face and other parts of her that she really didn't want to do so, considering they had somewhere to be.

It was like she had walked into her dream.

He was standing at the table near the three round windows, hands on the table, studying an old, large book with yellowed pages. Crane's back straightened and he half turned to look at her. The expression on his face was one of confusion and having a moment of perfect clarity at the same time. It was more breathtaking than when she had seen it in her dream. The soft candle light around the room gave him an otherworldly glow when he was the perfect specimen of polished manliness.

His attire for the evening had somehow married together their time periods, making him look more like a roguish pirate than a fine, upstanding citizen of the revolution. He wore black jeans in lieu of his favoured trousers with trendy black boots. It was paired with a black shirt, dark purple and black paisley print waistcoat, and a matching cravat. It was topped off with a tailored coat that favoured the one he normally wore, only all black with no ornate buttons on it.

Crane had trimmed his beard and had opted to make his ponytail neat and orderly, as opposed to what Reyes referred to as "sex hair."

It was kind of amusing, to Abbie anyway, that everyone assumed her and Crane had been having sex since shortly after they met. Another little gem was that Jenny had made her privy to the latest betting pool once it became public knowledge that they _hadn't_. And Nick had earned a small amount of respect from Crane when his bet was that they would wait until marriage.

Crane held his head high and walked down the two steps to join her near the door. He clasped his hands behind his back and bowed slightly, a coy smile on his lips and a wicked gleam in his eyes as he looked her over. "You are... absolutely captivating this evening, Abigail." He stepped close to her when he came out of his bow and rested a hand on either of her hips.

Abbie placed her hands on top of his, only vaguely aware of her clutch hitting the floor. She mirrored his shameless smirk. "You're not too bad yourself," she murmured, stepping forward to completely close the space between them. "I'm almost tempted to say let's just forget about the party and... have a party of our own."

Together they both looked towards the thin mattress they had dragged into the Archives when he moved in.

Abbie was bemused by the fact both of their minds immediately shifted to the same place. The mattress was empty, save for the bundle of sheets and pillows. Crane had not felt comfortable taking up residence on her sofa, after the fire, despite knowing there would be no social repercussions for their sharing a living space while unmarried. And once again, Crane's re-enactment community had come to his rescue when one of them mentioned needing to find a new home for a barely used bunk mattress.

Right now, she was pretty sure they were both grateful for the connections they had forged since his arrival in town. Although she did wonder exactly how many people in town owed Crane a favour and for what purpose. It seemed like almost everyone owed him _something_.

She could plainly see it in his eyes that he wanted her. The trick of the matter would be if they would continue on with their plans for the night and revisit the idea when they returned to the Archives after the party, not act on said desires, or just throw everything to the wind and stay in.

Crane's hand trailed up her arm to pinch the edge of her sleeve between his long fingers, stroking the sequins. "Should we attend the festivities we have already committed ourselves to... I fear I will be unable to keep my hands off of you this evening."

Abbie licked her lips, Crane watched the movement like a hawk. "And... what would happen if we ditched the party?"

Crane pressed his lips to her temple.

"Oh, Miss Mills," he said, his voice a gentle rumble, close to her ear. His hands slid around her waist, one coming to rest at the small of her back and the other on her backside. By applying only a little pressure she could feel _exactly_ what he had in mind, if they ditched the party, against her stomach. "I would be sorely tempted to... rid you of this bewitching frock and... spend the hours between now and morning learning the best ways in which to make you utter my name in as many decibels as possible."

Abbie puffed out a breath as her face warmed again and she felt just a little light headed.

"That is, of course," Crane continued. "If you are most amenable to the suggestion."

"I just remembered... Reyes said attendance for the Christmas party was not as mandatory as I thought," Abbie said hurriedly. She tilted her head back and Crane instantly found her mouth with his.

He cupped her face in his hands and broke away just enough to reply, "That is a most fortunate development."

They staggered back until Abbie felt the wooden storage cabinet connect against the back of her legs. She carefully slid to perching on the edge of it, not wanting to lose the sweet feel of his kiss as a warmth started to form in the pit of her belly. Crane's hands slid up her legs and under her dress, stopping at the junction between her hips and thighs.

"You cannot fathom the amount of times, in the past weeks, that I have allowed most lustful thoughts of you plague me," Crane admitted. He peppered kisses along her jaw then down her neck. "It is... wholly... uncommon of me to... consider the idea of... having my way with you... against the bookshelf."

His hands crept up higher, taking her skirt with him. Abbie's head lulled back as his mouth worked magic on a spot just below her ear. Normally his proclivity for talking at great lengths could wear on anyone's nerves. Abbie had always enjoyed hearing him going on and on about how superior his time period was or how history was _wrong_ -being eager to learn was the curse of finding intelligence sexy.

Even though he wasn't going on about history or some other subject, Abbie wanted him to keep talking. She tugged his coat down his arms, forcing his hands from under her skirt so it could drop to the floor. Next she attacked the cravat, while he resumed his explorations underneath her dress.

"Keep talking, Captain," Abbie murmured.

Crane lifted his head to look down at her. "You wish to hear more of my mental deviancies?"

"I said to keep talking didn't I?"

"Indeed you did, _Lieutenant_ ," Crane said, his voice dripping with desire. "I assure you, despite my rather reserved demeanour, I once travelled to India with my father. Whilst there the locals shared with me, some of their sacred tales which involved rather exotic means of achieving pleasure with one's partner and-" His voice broke off and he looked confused. "Abigail, are... are you not wearing undergarments?"

The tone in his voice was one of mock admonishment. Abbie just gave a coy smile and pulled his mouth back to hers. She went to work on getting him out of his waistcoat. Abbie was officially starting to get impatient. Crane was wearing entirely too many layers of clothes. If she had to guess, he would probably be wearing an under shirt as well. And she wasn't sure if she had enough patience to get all of that off before they got to the main event.

"You have... _way_ too many clothes on," Abbie ground out as Crane's fingers shifted to between her legs. Her head fell back as a loud moan escaped her mouth. She gripped the edge of the cabinet to keep from falling off as Crane's hand continued to work magic under her skirt. He seemed intuitive about just how to touch her to make her not know whether she should spread her legs further apart or snap them together to give her a moment to take a breath.

"Ichabod..." she yelped. She grasped his wrist tightly, digging her fingernails into his skin, but still not able to discern whether to push him away or telling him to keep going because she was still teetering that precious line.

The hand not occupied with the task between her legs slipped behind her back to keep her in place while his mouth returned to her throat. "Leaving you unsatisfied will simply not do," he whispered in her ear.

His thumb delicately brushed the bundle of hypersensitive nerves. Abbie choked on her own breath as the pleasure hit with full force and she managed to push his hand away. She panted heavily as she watched Crane pull the tails of his shirt from his jeans then pull it, along with his under shirt, over his head and cast them aside.

"Is this preferable, my love?" Crane asked.

Still unable to speak, Abbie nodded. She grabbed the waistline of his jeans and pulled him close once again. With tentative fingers she traced the line of the scar on his chest. She knew, without any doubts that she wanted to learn every inch of his body, become intimate with each scar. There were a few of her own scars that she would be willing to let him learn too.

Abbie let her eyes follow the path her fingers took to return to his jeans. She glanced back up at him, drawing her bottom lip between her teeth as she plucked the button free. Crane drew in a sharp breath, watching what her hands were doing. He cliched his fists and then flicked his fingers, a common thing he did when unsure of what to do or say or was simply curious about what was happening around him.

That was when Abbie realized he was giving her time to do what she wanted to him. Of course, at that moment all she really wanted to do was get his pants down and find out first hand what all he had learned from his friends in India.

She was about to unzip the jeans when she decided to stop and brush her hair out of her face, tucking rogue strands behind her ear. Abbie leaned back, putting her hands flat on the cabinet, behind her. She tilted her head and smiled. Crane muttered with frustration.

Abbie hooked a foot behind one of his knees, making him stagger towards her. "I feel like there's some more dirty fantasies tangled up in your head," she teased.

Crane leaned in, a devilish gleam in his eyes. "Perhaps it would be more enjoyable if I simply _show you_ , Miss Abigail?"

"Indeed it would," Abbie said, batting her eyelashes.

She had watched as he lowered the zip of his jeans, heard the gentle rustle of the fabrics as he pushed them down to free himself from their confines. But she was wholly unprepared for the magnificent way he filled her when they came together. He caught her bottom lip between his teeth and lured her into another of his sweet kisses.

Abbie clung to him as he moved against her, mostly because their currently position left it to where all she could really do was moan his name and scratch her nails down his back. "I have long dreamt of your bronzed skin against mine in this most intimate way," he murmured against her mouth, as he drew down the zip on the back of her dress.

He guided her dress down her arms. Abbie pulled her hands out of the sleeves and immediately returned them to his shoulders, not wanting to waste a second by _not_ touching him. The gentle friction between there bodies was making a delightful pressure build in the pit of her belly, like an elastic band getting carefully stretched and twisted to the breaking point.

Suddenly, Crane cupped her bottom in his hands and hoisted her off of the cabinet. Abbie laughed but wrapped around him tightly. "What are you doing?" she asked against his neck.

"My love," he replied. "I simply must be at the leisure to fully touch you."

He swept her away to the mattress. As soon as they had sank down into rumpled sheets, Crane wasted no time sitting back on his knees and trailing his diligent fingers over her chest, arms and stomach, before finally making it to her breasts. He then followed the same path, as far as he could, with his mouth.

It felt like forever had passed before they both found release. But it was forever in a good way, like lounging on a Hawaiian beach while on vacation and sipping a daiquiri; the kind of forever you wished wasn't over yet.

Once they were able to recapture their breaths, Abbie wiggled her dress over her hips and down her legs and tossed it out of reach. They then spent a good fifteen minutes of playful wrestling to get his boots and jeans completely removed, which had _somehow_ resulted in another vigorous round of love making.

##

At some point they managed to fall asleep, Abbie wrapped up in Ichabod's arms. It wasn't until her phone started ringing that she had to crawl across the Archives to relocate her clutch from the night before. When she crawled back to the mattress she was greeted by Ichabod's sleepy smile, his hair thoroughly tousled and hanging in his face. Abbie returned the smile, stopping at the edge of the mattress, remembering all the _transgressions_ that took place in order to get him into such a state.

"I just awoke to a most delectable sight," he murmured.

"Did you?" Abbie asked.

"Indeed I have," he replied, his voice deep and raspy with a mix of sleep and sexual intent. "I watched a lovely, heart-shaped bottom retreating around the cabinetry. I was very much disappointed it had gone away. But then a beautiful, exotic pixie returned and appeared to be stalking me as though she were a wicked seductress seeking me as her prey."

Abbie tossed her phone down onto the floor, next to the mattress and proceeded to pounce her fellow witness, who just happened to also be her lover. Within minutes, she had him pinned down on the bedding, groaning her name as she rode to him completion as the morning sunlight started filtering in through the windows.

Afterwards, Ichabod spooned up to her back, letting her head rest on one of his arms while his other hand found a home in the curve of her waist. He placed light kisses on the back of her neck, sending delightful chills down her spine. "I wish we could just stay in this moment forever," Abbie said with a soft sigh.

"I can truly say there is no better moment in which to stay than basking in the afterglow of coupling," Ichabod replied. The hand at her waist captured her fingers and he placed kisses on the pad of each digit. "Although, this would presently be a good time to assure you that my intentions towards you are in no way dishonourable. I vow to you, Grace Abigail Mills, to be eternally faithful to you in mind, body, and soul."

A lump formed in Abbie's throat. She looked over her shoulder at Ichabod the best she could. "Ichabod Crane," she said, surprise in her voice. "Are you proposing?"

"In my day, you would simply vocalize reciprocation of the vow and we would, indeed, be wed," Ichabod said. "If the laws have changed in that aspect, then yes... I suppose it could be considered a proposal for marriage."

"The State of New York put a stop to common law marriage in 1938," Abbie said with a wicked grin. " _But_ , I will accept your proposal until we have a chance to make it legal." She drew in a deep breath before adding on, "I vow to you, Ichabod Crane, to be eternally faithful to you in mind, body, and soul."

Ichabod cupped her cheek and pressed his lips to hers, sealing the agreement. They would have sealed it more thoroughly had Captain Reyes not barged in unannounced, coffee in hand, wearing the darkest sunglasses she owned. "Mills, Crane... we- Whoa... sorry about that." She turned her back while the two scrambled cover themselves. Being their clothes were half way across the room, they made due with the bed sheet.

"We're... as decent as we can get, sir," Abbie said dryly.

Reyes turned back around to address them. "We missed you two at the party last night," she said flatly. "But obviously you two had your reasons. Mills, I need you to cover the morning shift in place of Evans. She had one too many chocolate Martinis with me last night and has a bad hangover. There's a few things I need delivered this morning and I need you to see about getting some statements from a few people. Take him along," she nodded towards Ichabod. "He might be useful. You have twenty minutes to get ready to go." She stalked back to the door, stopping at it to turn back and readdress them, "Oh, and lunch is on me today."

Ichabod and Abbie shared a look. "Why?" Abbie said unsure of where the conversation was going.

"You two just helped me earn $300. The least I can do is buy you lunch," she opened the door. "And no sex in the patrol car."

With that, Reyes exited the Archives.

After a moment of dumbfounded silence, Abbie said, "Well, I have a change of clothes in my locker down stairs for emergencies. We should get cleaned up and on the road."

Ichabod brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. "I look forward to it," he said, arching an eyebrow as he smirked. " _Lieutenant_."

Abbie pushed him over. "Stop saying it like that!"

It ended up being almost an hour and a half before they managed to make their way out of the police department.


End file.
